


Bellarke One Shot

by QueenKatniss



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: 5000 + words, Bellarke, College AU, F/M, Too long to be a drabble, Whatever you call this, art history students
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-22 14:35:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4839071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenKatniss/pseuds/QueenKatniss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke realizes her feelings for her coworker Bellamy are less than professional.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bellarke One Shot

Clarke was miserable. She’d locked herself into her art studio (which was basically a glorified storage room with a window) two days ago. She’d exited long enough to pee, sleep, and snag a bag of mustard pretzels from the pantry. Her roommate, Anya, knew better than to ask questions or disturb Clarke when she did this. She’d learned early on in their cohabitation that a closed studio door meant its occupant was sorting out some feelings in the best way she knew how: with charcoal and canvas.   
A golden blonde bun of tangled curls sat atop her head. Bright blue eyes blinked below knitted brows.   
Her brown and navy plaid button-up hung loosely over her shoulders and too-loose jeans slid over the tops of her bare feet as they rocked her weight from one to the other. She looked like any other college student. Sleeping too long the night before had left her eyes red rimmed and her shoulders slumped.   
Clarke had never been so unhappy in all her twenty-four years on earth. She was completely, utterly in love.   
She hated it.   
Her fingers smudged and shaded the jawline across the canvas. She’d lost count of how many she’d thrown out because they didn’t look right. She’d finally mastered the scattered freckles across the bridge of his nose. She’d worked relentlessly to correct his raven curls. She was itching to get to his beautiful hands next. But she couldn’t do that until she’d gotten his jaw right. And that hadn’t happened yet.   
The cut of his bone was strong and straight, but the fine stubble that covered it was what threw her. It wasn’t short enough to be a shadow, but not long enough to be called a full-fledged beard.   
Clarke could see it in her mind if she tried hard enough. Mmmm she wondered what it would feel like under her hand. Maybe she could slide her hand over it. Or grab his jaw. What would it feel like if she kissed him there, just underneath?   
She realized she’d stopped drawing and was staring at the canvas.   
Shaking her head she pulled her phone out of her pocket.   
“No,” she groaned and whirled for the door.   
She ran through the apartment, stopping only to slip her tennis shoes on her feet and grab her keys from the table by the door, before flinging the door shut behind her.   
She could not be late again. Not again, not again.  
Marcus would kill her. She was an intern at the local Art History Museum, and although she was lucky to be getting paid at all, it was a measly amount at best. But if she didn’t complete her internship she’d never be able to apply for the Masters program at her university. And she couldn’t complete it if she was fired.   
Her car pulled up and stopped in her parking slot behind the museum and she clamored out. Her shoes were too loud in the quiet hall when she heard a familiar voice behind her.   
“Clarke, aren’t you cutting it close?” Bellamy’s voice filled the thin hallway.   
Clarke stopped and turned to face him as he approached her. His white lab coat swirled in the air with his movements.  
She reminded herself to breathe, breathe, breathe. He was just a guy. Just Bellamy Blake, just (technically) her boss. He was just the guy she’s in love with.   
His surly expression did nothing to quell the frantic beating of her heart. He always looked like that.   
She also knew what it looked like when his eyes lit up when he talked about mythology, or Roman history. It was one of the reasons he was so good at his job.   
She knew his smile was crooked on the rare occasion he lets one happen. She knows how she’s one of the few people who can bring one out of him.   
He’s beautiful and talented and genius-level smart. Bellamy is kind and honest and with a dry sense of humor. No wonder she’d fallen for him so quickly.   
He was also dating someone. If his quiet conversations in the break room and gentle smiles over texts were any indication of his feelings for his girlfriend, she must be significant to him.  
Clarke tried very hard not to hate the girl she’d never even met.   
She fell into step beside Bellamy as they walked to the lab. He was almost four years older than her, but since he had started college late, he was only one year ahead of her at the university. His internship was a two-year program, so even though they were both students, his year of experience gave him a level of seniority over her while working together in the laboratory underneath the museum.   
“I’m not late yet,” Clarke muttered indignantly.   
Bellamy elbowed her and gave one of those small smiles. “Ready to get back to The Monster?” he asked, affectionately referring to the giant painting they were currently restoring.   
She nodded along and tried to ignore the flip her stomach performed when he touched her.  
Clarke was wrist deep in a tub of Blue Bell ice cream when Anya came sweeping through the kitchen door.   
“So,” Anya purred, one straight eyebrow raised, “you decided to crawl out of your cave?”  
Clarke gave a “mmphhmm” around a mouthful.   
Anya put her bag on the hook next to the door and slipped out of her shoes. Clarke heard her bare feet pad through the apartment to the bathroom, pee, the toilet flush and the sink run, and then her retreating feet walk back through to the kitchen. She studied the chocolate chunks carefully in her ice cream as she heard Anya pull a drawer open and shut. A couple of seconds passed and her roommate flopped onto the couch next to her before digging her own spoon into the carton.   
“Okay. Tell wise Anya.”  
Clarke really had no choice. The longer she put it off, the more ice cream Anya would eat without permission and sit in silence waiting for her answer.   
After a deep breath, she dove in. “I love Bellamy,” she stated simply.   
Anya gave no indication of surprise or consideration. Just waited silently for Clarke to explain.   
“I don’t know why. And I didn’t really mean for it to happen. I just- I just worked with him. And then, I go to work four days ago, and he’s there, as usual. And- I mean- he’s hot, that’s obvious, and he knows. But he was explaining something to Marcus and moving his hands. His eyes were so bright and he was so animated. I’ve never seen him talk like that to anyone about anything. And I just thought ‘I want to be the reason he looks like that.’   
“And that thought just freaked me out. Like- why? Why do I care what faces Bellamy Blake makes? Or who makes him look like that?  
“So, I started paying more attention. I wanted to find out more about him so I asked questions. He thought I was nuts to begin with but then we kept talking and he opened up more. And, come to find out, he fascinates me. Everything he says is- oh God and his voice. It’s so deep and everything he says just kind of vibrates the room.  
“He has this little mole on his neck next to his collarbone that stands out against his freckles. And he loves his little sister so much and he chose her name. How adorable is that? It’s one of the things that sparked his interest in his major and-“   
Clarke finally stops when she realizes too late that she’s rambling like a maniac.  
Anya still hasn’t spoken a word, but her wide mouth is drawn up in the corners. Clarke stares at her with big blue doe eyes and this helpless look on her face and they tip up a little more.   
“Clarke,” she begins in her thick accent, “I’m confused. You dated Wells for two years. You are acting as if this is brand new to you.”  
The blonde chewed her lip and downcast her eyes before replying. “I know. I loved Wells, very much. But… It wasn’t like this. Wells was familiar and my best friend for years before we decided to date. He was… family to me.”  
“A crush then?” Anya inquired.  
Clarke just shook her head. “Believe me, I’ve gone through all the possibilities these past three days. I’ve had crushes, I’ve been in lust, I’ve wanted to befriend people. This is- this is different.  
“I can’t get him out of my head. His voice is everywhere, I’m watching for him in crowds. I was off work for two days and all of what I did in my studio was draw him and miss him. I missed my coworker. I’ve lost my mind.” Clarke runs a hand over her small features, dragging her full mouth down in the process.  
“So? Go do something about it. Ask him out.” Anya says like it’s the simplest thing in the world.   
“I can’t,” Clarke whines. “He’s dating someone.”  
“Are they serious?”   
Wrong question to ask Clarke Griffin.   
“It doesn’t matter if they’re serious! If they’re childhood sweethearts or just met last week or engaged! It’s not my business to go after someone who is involved with someone else.”  
Anya rolled her eyes, her moral compass not nearly as due north as Clarke’s. “Okay, fine. Then just tell him how you feel. Let him make the decision.”   
“Oh, sure,” Clarke drawled. “’Hey, Bell. Just thought I’d let you know that I’m in love with you. But I’m not going to do anything about it. So, now you have this information to do with what you will.’  
“Can you imagine how awkward the next six months will be? No. Absolutely not.” Clarke shook her head, blonde curls swinging.   
“Well, I guess you can just be miserable, then.” Anya declared.  
“You’re just a beacon of hope tonight, Wise Anya,” Clarke deadpanned.   
Anya only spooned up more chocolate. “I gave you multiple options for your problem. You refused them all. It looks like staying in your current state is what benefits you best.” Her eyebrows rose before she added, “But, could you take your current state to the shower? Because I think that’s what will benefit us all.”   
With a shove to Anya’s shoulder and a hiss under her breath Clarke rose to go to the bathroom.   
She made it several days before she decided she’d be better off dead than stay like she was. She constantly prayed for the museum to collapse and bury her under feet of concrete. But when she started daydreaming that Bellamy was out to lunch when it happened so he wouldn’t be hurt she decided that was even more pathetic.   
Clarke moped through her days, dodging quizzical glances from Bellamy and questions from her boss Marcus about whether she was okay.   
On day seven of moping and a full week of work side by side with Bellamy, he’d had enough.   
“Okay, Clarke, what is going on? Are you sick? Did something happen to your family?” Bellamy snapped, dropping the brush he was using onto the mat that spread beneath the painting.   
She startled at the insistence in his voice. Looking up at him (as he cleared six-two and she was barely five-four in shoes) she gazed into his dark brown eyes. They stood shoulder to shoulder, as they always did when working on a piece. The lamp that glared over the art work left their faces in shadow.   
Black curls fell over his forehead, one in particular was perfectly centered and aligned with his nose. Clarke’s eyes followed it down to the dusting of freckles that dotted it and spread across his cheeks.   
Remembering herself, she shook her head and looked away. “No, um, no. I’m fine. Everything’s fine,” she lied.   
Bellamy didn’t look at all convinced. “Everything is not fine. Last Wednesday you talked my head off, wanting to know my grandparents’ names and stuff. Now you’ve been quiet for a week.”  
Clarke shifted uncomfortably, her cheeks pinking. “Um,” she started.  
“Clarke,” Bellamy whispered. “What’s going on?”   
The way he said her name, almost caressing it, was enough to make her heart do one slow, delicious tumble in her chest. She chanced another look at him and regretted it. His eyes were full of genuine concern, and his face was much closer than she’d anticipated.   
I’m crazy about you, you big dork. She could almost taste the words on her tongue. She opened and closed her mouth, then licked her lips. She could’ve sworn she saw his eyes light on her mouth.   
A noise rang out, a song of some sort, and startled them both. Bellamy pulled his phone out of his pocket to find it ringing.   
“I, uh, gotta take this,” he muttered as he backed away toward the break room.   
“Sure,” Clarke tried to give him a bright smile. She came nowhere close.  
In his motion toward the break room she’d seen the screen of his phone as it displayed a gorgeous brunette, hair in a high ponytail as the name RAVEN flashed below.   
Golden skin. Long dark hair. Big beautiful smile.   
That’s Bellamy’s type, huh, she thought bitterly. Tears stung her eyes and she hated herself for them.   
She glanced down at her small, pale hands. He wants someone who looks more like him, I guess.   
His muffled laugh carried through the room. Her hands squeezed into fists and she glanced at the clock on the wall. 4:50. Close enough, she thought, and grabbed her purse.   
Clarke walked through the museum with Finn Collins. She showed him all her favorite pieces and the ones she’d worked on herself. He tucked his long, sleek hair behind one ear and listened intently, smiling all the while.   
It had been another week since she’d walked out of the lab ten minutes early. She’d worked four of those days with Bellamy. She’d determined in that amount of time that she was being an idiot.   
She was a beautiful girl, in her own way. She got hit on plenty of times. She mentally rattled off things she liked about herself and others she knew were assets. She was whip smart, talented, and driven. She may be short but she was somewhat athletic and her curves had gotten her attention when she needed them to.   
Clarke had decided to stop wallowing in self-pity and comparing herself to some girl she didn’t even know because of a guy.   
Finn often frequented the same coffee shop that Clarke did. They’d flirted and talked on several occasions, but when he’d asked her out a month or so ago, she’d politely declined. Something about him just didn’t seem her type.   
But today, as she walked into Bean’s Coffee and Pastry shop and saw him standing at the counter, she’d decided to go for it. What could she lose? So she’d invited him to the museum for lunch.   
Now, here she stood with him at the end of their lunch date.   
He’d been interesting enough. He worked at the U.N. He was very, very cute. And, most importantly, he was a good distraction.   
“Would you like to see where I work?” she offered.   
His answering grin was contagious.   
Finn followed her down the corridor to the staircase that led down to the labs. Clarke pointed out some of the artifacts and the tools she and Bellamy used to clean them. She was telling him a joke about Zeus in Greek mythology when the door to the breakroom slammed.   
Both Clarke and Finn’s eyes shot to the doorway where a fuming Bellamy stood. His broad shoulders were tensed, his gray t shirt spread tight across them. He stood at his full height and glared down at the two of them.   
Clarke studied Bellamy, incredulity written all over her features. “Um, Bellamy, this is Finn Collins. My lunch date.”   
Clarke didn’t miss the way Bellamy’s eyes flashed when she introduced him that way.   
“And, um, Finn, this is Bellamy Blake. My colleague here at the museum and at the university.”   
Finn, unease written all over his face, just gave a small wave since Bellamy was still all the way across the room and made no move to close the space between them to shake hands. “Nice to meet you,” Finn mumbled.   
Bellamy said nothing.   
Finn turned to Clarke. “I should, uh, probably get back to work. Thank you for meeting me for lunch. I’d love to do it again sometime. Or dinner.” He smiled and gestured toward the staircase while throwing a last uneasy glance over his shoulder at Bellamy. Clarke walked with him up the stairs and said her goodbye while dodging the offer of dinner. All her mind could focus on at the moment was Bellamy’s hostile reaction to Finn.   
After shutting the door behind Finn and descending the stairs, she marched right up to Bellamy who hadn’t left his stance by the breakroom door.   
“What in hell is wrong with you, Bellamy?! What was that about? Finn was perfectly congenial to you and you just stood there all puffed up. What is the matter with you?”  
Bellamy looked down at Clarke. “You need to stay away from him.”  
It was all he said before he rounded her and walked to the work table and picked up a brush.  
Fuming, Clarke whirled and followed him. “What is that supposed to mean? Do you know something I don’t? Or are you just incredibly rude? And I don’t remember telling you who I do or do not stay away from was any of your business.”  
Bellamy slowly turned around to face her. “Clarke. Trust me. Nothing good will come of you spending time with him. You- you deserve better than him.”  
Clarke deflated. “Why do you say that? How do you know him?”  
“That’s not important,” he dodged. “But I know he’s not a good guy. You need someone who will treat you right. Who will… respect you and adore you. That’s… that’s not Finn.”   
Bellamy’s voice had grown quiet and he was looking at her in just that way again. Like he had a week ago. Clarke could almost feel herself pull closer to him. She could feel the heat coming off his chest through his shirt.  
“Bell, I appreciate you looking out for me. But I can take care of myself. If he’s such a bad guy, what did he do that made you hate him this way?” Clarke asked him.   
“That’s not really my place to tell.”  
“But it is your place to tell me I shouldn’t date him?” Clarke’s incredulous face twisted up at him.   
Bellamy huffed a breath and looked at the ceiling.   
“Clarke, it’s not my story to tell. I just know – I’ve seen – first-hand the damage he’s caused. He wouldn’t be good for you. I don’t want to see you get hurt that way.”  
She couldn’t breathe. It took her entire body of willpower to not open her mouth and say something she knew she’d regret. He’s just a friend. He just sees you as a friend and is looking out for you because he’s a good guy.   
She took a breath and looked away from his beautiful face so she could actually think. She hated herself for wishing that maybe a little of his reaction to Finn was out of jealousy, but she pushed that thought away. However, she couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Why?”  
Bellamy looked baffled. “Why what?”  
“Why does it matter to you?’   
Clarke barely allowed herself to speak the question and it had squeezed out as a whisper.  
Bellamy’s face was a mask of bewilderment. He brought a hand up and pushed a lock of blonde hair that had escaped her low ponytail behind her ear. Clarke’s breath caught in her throat. Her face turned toward his hand without her permission, but she stopped before they’d touched.   
His expression softened and he took a small step toward her. “Clarke, I -,”   
The door at the top of the stairs squeaked open and a cheerful voice called down to them. Marcus needed to ask some questions about a new piece they had coming in a couple of days.   
Bellamy and Clarke snapped apart. And the moment was over.   
Clarke tossed and turned the entire night. Every time she closed her eyes the only thing she could see was Bellamy’s face hovering so close to hers. She wanted to know what he was going to say. But even more important was what she’d seen in his eyes. He’d looked so gentle and caring. He’d looked like he wanted her, too.  
But it wasn’t right. He had Raven. He shouldn’t be looking at her like that.   
Nothing she told herself could calm her heart when she remembered the way he’d looked before Marcus came in. The prickling down her neck when he’d tucked her hair behind her ear was enough to make her crave to be near him again.   
She got almost no rest that night. But it didn’t seem to matter the next morning. She was so excited to see him that she rushed to get ready for work so she could be there early.   
Bellamy stood next to the door to the breakroom when Clarke came down the stairs. The sight of him caused her stomach to tense and her heart to sprint.   
He looked up in surprise when she gave a small wave and a “good morning.”   
His smile split across his face. “Hey. Look who’s early for once,” he teased.   
She smiled in reply. “Yeah, I uh – was up early so I just came on in,” she lied.   
“I’m glad,” he said.   
Clarke couldn’t form words if she was threatened to be tarred and feathered. The surprise at his statement must have shown on her face because he rushed on.   
“I, uh, wanted to talk to you about yesterday,” he spoke.   
Clarke only swallowed.   
Bellamy ran a hand through his curls. “I talked to someone last night who knew Finn. I had told you it wasn’t my story to tell so when I spoke to her yesterday I asked about it.”  
“Oh, Bell, don’t worry about that. I’m not going to be seeing Finn again.”  
His answering smile could’ve powered a country’s worth of electricity. “I’m glad to hear that. But I do think you deserve to know why I was such a dick to him.  
“He dated this girl. They had gone out for, about five years, I think. They were looking at engagement rings and planning their lives together. They lived together. So when she found out he’d been cheating on her, she was livid of course. But she loved him. So she stayed with him.   
“Last summer, they were a week away from their wedding when she found him in a bar. With his girlfriend.”  
“Oh, no,” Clarke mumbled.   
“Yeah. It really, really messed her up. She was diagnosed with depression a month later. I want to kill him for doing that to her. She’s a genius, beautiful, funny. She’s really incredible and she never deserved that.”  
“What’s her name?” Clarke asked.   
“Raven,” he answered. Bellamy continued to talk but his voice was drowned out by the ringing in Clarke’s ears.  
Of course. Of course. Raven.   
He hates Finn because he hurt his girlfriend. It had nothing to do with jealousy on Clarke’s part. Bellamy didn’t want Finn around because of Raven.   
His girlfriend, you idiot.  
Clarke didn’t realize that she’d held her hand up and motioned for him to stop talking. Bellamy just stared at her.   
“He cheated on Raven.” Clarke spoke.   
“Yeah,” Bellamy said hesitantly.   
“She’s the one you asked if you could tell me this story.”  
“Yeah.”   
Clarke nodded along, eyes on the table. “Okay,” she muttered. “Okay. I’m gonna go,” she ground out as she turned back toward the staircase.   
“What?” he snapped.  
“Tell Marcus I got sick or something. Or, don’t. I’ll call him later. Just – I’ll see you, Bellamy.” Her voice was low as she made her way to grab her purse and walk to the stairs.  
She had to get out. Get out. Get out. How could she have been so stupid? How could she - .   
“Wait!” Bellamy crossed the room behind her and snagged her wrist. She turned halfway toward him and stopped. “Why are you leaving? What’s going on? Are you mad about Finn?” he asked in rapid succession.   
Clarke rolled her eyes. “No, Bellamy, I don’t even care about Finn.”  
“Then what is it?” he asked, still not letting go of her hand.   
“It’s because you have a girlfriend! You are with Raven and Finn cheated on her so you hate him. And I get that! I really do. But I can’t do this. I can’t!” Clarke exploded. The words spilled out and she didn’t care if she said them or he heard them anymore.   
“I’m crazy about you. I seriously am. I can’t get you out of my head and I’m head over heels in love with you. Okay? I hate being near you and I can’t have anything with you. I don’t want to become the issue with anyone in a relationship and she’s already been screwed over.   
“So, I’ll just transfer to a different museum or, have Marcus move me upstairs or something. I’m sorry. I really am. I have to go.”   
She pulled away toward the stairs again but his grip tightened on her wrist, spinning her back toward him. Bellamy’s face was light and his eyes wide.   
Clarke didn’t notice. She looked everywhere but at his face.   
“Clarke, I don’t have a girlfriend.”  
“Bellamy, don’t lie to me. I’ve seen you on the phone with her and texting her and you smile so wide and look so happy. She means a lot to you and that’s fine. You don’t have to feel guilty about it because I told you all of that - .”   
“Clarke, I’m not dating Raven.”  
She finally turned to look at him, but didn’t look at all like she believed him.   
“I’m not, Clarke, honestly. She does mean a lot to me because I’ve known her forever. And I do hate Finn for hurting her. But she’s not my girlfriend.”  
Clarke only listened, not wanting to embarrass herself any more than she already had.   
“And my reaction to him yesterday was only partly because of Raven. I was furious at him for being here, for being near you. And then, when you called him your date, I wanted to rip his head clean off his shoulders. He doesn’t deserve to even be in the same room as you. But, it wasn’t all for your benefit either. I was insanely jealous. I would’ve probably reacted that way to anyone you bought down here, Clarke, because none of them would’ve been me.”  
Her eyes dashed up to meet his, bright and glossy blue against deep, warm chocolate. He hadn’t let go of her wrist. Thousands of things, questions, raced through her mind but none landed on her tongue long enough for her to voice them. So she waited.   
“I don’t have a girlfriend. I smile at my texts from my sister when she tells me to man up and ask you out. And I talk a lot on the phone to Raven because she’s dealing with a lot; everything I told you and also debating whether or not to date some engineer guy that she works with. Half the time we talked it was about both of us having crushes on our coworkers.” He smiled a full, gentle smile and Clarke’s chest tightened. She glanced down, and then up at him again.   
“Although, to be quite honest, mine is a bit more than a crush, really,” he murmured. His hand that wasn’t holding her wrist reached up to rub the back of his neck.   
Clarke slowly turned to face him. “Really?” she spoke softly.   
“You don’t know?” He laughed mirthlessly.   
“Know what?”  
His hand finally slid down her wrist to grab hers, interlacing their fingers and pulling her toward him. Her small hand landed on his chest, fisting in his shirt to steady herself.   
“Clarke, God, I –, “ but he cut himself off, leaning down to rest his forehead on hers. Her face turned up toward him, hope soaring through her entire being as she closed her eyes.   
Bellamy took a breath and it fanned across her face before he spoke.   
“I love you, too,” he breathed.  
Clarke choked out a tiny gasp before pushing up to her toes and pressing her mouth to his. Bellamy moaned and strapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against him.   
Clarke kissed him with abandon, her heart on fire and her head light. Their lips slid across each other’s, caressing and moving in rhythm. Her arms were trapped between them, hands still fisted in his shirt. She pulled them free and up his chest to his neck to play with the ends of his hair.   
When he slanted his head and parted his lips Clarke took the invitation gladly, sliding her tongue over the soft skin. Bellamy breathed a whimper into her mouth and met her tongue with his own.   
Her hands slipped from his neck to frame his face. His beard scratched against them and she smiled against his mouth.   
He pulled back long enough to smile back and ask what was so funny before returning to her lips.   
“I’ve wanted this. For. Ever.” She mouthed between kisses.   
“Me, too,” he answered.   
They pulled away, still wrapped in each other’s arms, to look at each other.   
“Bellamy,” her voice pulling up at the end.   
“Yeah?” One hand glided up her waist and landed at the base of her neck.   
“How – um, how long have you – ,“ she couldn’t seem to finish the question, her mind so full of the smell and feel and taste of Bellamy.   
He closed the gap between them and kissed her again.   
“I think I didn’t really know until yesterday. I knew I liked you, and wanted you. But seeing you yesterday, just set something off. I couldn’t sleep last night. All I wanted to do was get here and see you. I missed you.”   
Clarke smiled brightly. “I know what you mean,” she purred.   
His hand tangled in the hair at her neck. He pulled gently so that her head tipped back. “Clarke,” he groaned out.  
She stared into his eyes expectantly.   
His cheeks tinged pink under his freckles. “Tell me again.”   
So she did. “I love you, you big dork.”   
His answering laugh rang out through the museum above them before he dove down to capture her mouth in another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! This is my first story in the Bellarke fandom. Hope you enjoyed it. <3<3


End file.
